In the beginning, a robin was hatched. She was little and precocious and took flight.
She found carnivals made her blue and excited in equal measure. Lovely lights, barkers, circus animals and discarded dolls created vast sadness.
Later life was spent trying to capture beauty that titrates ache.
And then, daring to bloom.
Clutches of ideas hatched.
The tales are herein, an evolution of robin. Me...
Ummm, yeah, that sounds kind of dramatic. I wrote that out and have edited and re-read and so forth and somehow cannot make myself publish that. But I do like it. But I don't want anyone to read it. But, this is my blog. My journal. Mine to do with as I please.
Sometimes I am deep, sometimes I am shallow, like the ocean on the shore, ever changing, always constant. Sometimes I am woeful and sometimes joyful and sometimes raging about cell phone use and tail-gaters, then loving my child and encouraging to others, then small with a dark, bitter heart.
My mission statement that is completely off the cuff and not well thought out: I don't scrapbook, I don't journal, I don't have an art journal. What I do have is a date book, a pen and a highlighter. What I do have are many 5 x 8 legal steno pads of daily, weekly and seasonal lists and spiral notebooks with various ideas over the years. What I do have is thousands of printed pictures in chronological order in albums in a closet. I do have dozens of CDs organized into seasons full of digital pictures I have taken. At the end of each year I make a DVD of the whole year in pictures, and a CD of the best of that year. I have CDs of vintage family photos I have scanned and cataloged. Thousands of pictures. Hundreds of stories in my head. I see this blog as a journal of thoughts, and photographs, old and new. I see it as a place for me to display those things together where I do not have to scrapbook. Because I don't know where to start scrapbooking and somehow cannot make myself do it when there are dolls to sew and scarves to knit. This is my digital scrapbook. Put on view for others to see. Strangers, friends. Voyeurs like me.
And so it will go...